“I’m going to pretend you won’t be imagining me and Percy hooking up while you do that.”
Fender shrugs and smirks at me over the rim of his mug. “If that’s a load-bearing cope, then by all means.”
Percy steps out of the bedroom a minute later dressed in Fender’s clothes. They’re a little loose, but nothing that should cause a problem during a short jog. When he’s done, I dip into my room to get dressed, quickly pulling on a jock, a pair of joggers, and a T-shirt.
“Here.” I hold my hand out for his clothes, which he’s got balled up in his fist when I step back out into the living room.
He hands them over and I shove them into the drawstring backpack I have hanging by the door, then loop it over my shoulders before putting my shoes on.
“I really can’t believe you’re getting me to jog before I’ve even had coffee,” he says as we step out of the apartment and make our way down the stairs.
“Jogging is a better wake-up than coffee. You’ll see.”
“There’s no way that’s not a lie.” He shakes his head and follows me out onto the street.
We stand off to the side for a minute, both stretching our hamstrings and our calves. It’s early enough that it’s still quiet, almost no one on the street and only a few cars driving by.
“Andit’s cold,” he grumbles.
“It won’t be cold once we get moving.”
“Are you always this annoyingly optimistic in the morning or am I just grumpy from lack of caffeine and bad sleep?”
I stop stretching and look at him with a frown. “You didn’t sleep well?”
I hate the idea of him lying awake, uncomfortable or restless while I was having one of the best nights’ sleep of my life. He looks away and I notice the twitch of a smile on his lips.
“No, I slept amazing, actually. It must be the caffeine thing. Either that or you really are annoying.” His smile gets bigger with the teasing comment, and I grin right back at him.
“Keep up with me for two laps around the block and then back to your apartment, and I’ll DoorDash a fancy coffee to your place so you’ll be all caffeinated and ready to write that paper.”
“Nowthere’sthe kind of motivation I’m looking for.” He rolls his shoulders and bounces from one foot to the other, pumping his arms like he’s warming them up for the jog. “Let’s do this.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
PERCY
Surprisingly,I manage to keep up with Butch. Granted, he’s definitely not going at his full speed, but still, I haven’t even had coffee yet and if I’m honest, I’m still a little weak in the knees from not one, but two spectacular orgasms last night. So keeping pace with quarter-speed Butch instead of keeling over on the sidewalk and simply letting myself die is definitely noteworthy.
Of course, it’s Butch, so he doesn’t just head straight for my building and make it easy on me.
“See, what did I tell you? This weather is perfect for a morning jog.” He’s all sunshine and optimism as we take the long way around Anderson park. The morning sun shining through the red and orange leaves makes the trees look like they’re on fire, while a flock of geese honk at us from the grass on our way past. I hate to admit it, but the goose bumps on my skin are long gone, replaced by a thin sheen of sweat starting to form under my clothes.
“Okay, dude question that I’ve been too afraid to ask.” My lips twitch with a smile.
“Shoot,” Butch says easily.
“The ball chafing.” I groan. “I thought I’d gotten used to it as part of life with a scrotum, but when you add sweat and jogging into the mix, it’s a real problem.”
He barks out a laugh.
“Support is your best bet. A good jockstrap goes a long way. And for a long run like the half-marathon, you’ll definitely want an anti-chafing stick.”
“Noted.” I chuckle. “So, do you make all the guys you hook up with exercise the next morning, or is this special for me since I’m your pet project?” I joke between my carefully controlled breaths, our footsteps falling into perfect rhythm with each other. Without the speed and distance in big red numbers on a screen in front of me, it’s actually easier to find a steady, sustainable pace.
“Pet project?” He sounds borderline offended. “Where’d you get that idea, Rocky?”
“Uh…” Shit, now I feel dumb for making assumptions. Maybe he invites tons of his personal training clients to go camping. Maybe it’s a totally regular thing for him to sign up for a half-marathon to motivate the people he trains. Hell, for all I know, he might be in the habit of having sex with his clients too.
